


Coralie

by drbeyne



Series: A Friend Request [2]
Category: Sanditon (TV 2019)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:56:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24912712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drbeyne/pseuds/drbeyne
Summary: This is the sequel to my middle-aged Sidlotte story, A Friend Request.  We come back to to Sidney and Charlotte three months after their wedding.  When Sidney's past comes right back into their present, how will our newly-weds cope?
Relationships: Charlotte Heywood & Sidney Parker
Series: A Friend Request [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1802758
Comments: 197
Kudos: 139





	1. Sunday Lunch

**Author's Note:**

> This is both a continuation of A Friend Request and a new story. To read A Friend Request you can find it at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24147079/chapters/58143637

Not long after Sidney and Charlotte returned from their honeymoon, Charlotte instituted the tradition of Sunday lunch for Sidney’s nieces and nephew.

“Can’t we have a bit longer of it just being you and me?” Sidney grumbled.

“It’s important they don’t feel you have deserted them. They still need you.”

“You are always such a wise woman,” said Sidney, gazing at her fondly. 

“So you’ll tell them? Lunch every Sunday.”

And they had come, every Sunday without fail occasionally with partners, but usually on their own. Although he had grumbled at first, Sidney enjoyed these lunches, spending time with his nieces and nephew and knowing he wasn’t alone in supporting them now he had Charlotte by his side. Charlotte, in her turn, took pleasure in cooking for them all and in watching her husband and nieces and nephew interact. Although they always tried to include Charlotte in their conversations things very quickly reverted to how they must always have been; the three young people talking over each other, all trying to get Sidney’s attention. Charlotte was swept by a wave of love for her amazing new husband, watching him calmly and patiently give each of his nieces and nephew the attention they craved.

This particular Sunday Charlotte was cooking beef and all the trimmings, the smells of roasting meat filling the kitchen. Although Charlotte and Sidney now lived in their converted barn, these lunches always took place in the main house. This way Charlotte could keep an eye on comings and goings in the B&B and Alison could have the day off; a day off that she often spent with Crowe, to Sidney’s amusement and astonishment. They had started to see each other after meeting at the wedding, but were now both keeping very quiet as to how their relationship was going. 

“Oh Charlotte, smells delicious!” said Jenny who had arrived first. “Are you making apple crumble too?”

“Of course.”

“And what’s the wine for today?” They had taken to drinking local wine as part of preparations for growing their own vines.

Sidney sighed. “I’ve left it at home, I’ll go to the barn and get it.”

“Before you do, Sid,” said Jenny, rummaging around in her bag. “I was passing the old house yesterday, Jim saw me and gave me this letter for you.” She produced an envelope out of her bag and handed it over. Sidney glanced at it. Post did still occasionally arrive for him at the community centre even though he had moved out five years previously. It was a blue handwritten envelope, not junk mail, so he stuffed it in his pocket and went out to get the wine. Back in the barn, he put the letter on his desk, selected a couple of bottles and went back to the house. Henry and Alicia had arrived and as soon as he was there, they all started talking at once, as usual.

“I got the part…”

“I’ve split up with Richard…”

“Did you see the match…”

Charlotte suddenly had the image of a nest of baby birds, their beaks outstretched as their mother shared out bits of worm, plopping a piece into each wide mouth.

“I did see the match, Henry,” said Sidney, twisting the corkscrew into one of the wine bottles. “Great goal. Thought I’d get us some tickets for the next match at home, what do you think?” Henry beamed. “That sounds very exciting, Jenny, but let’s hear what Alicia has to say first. Sounds like we’re going to need some good news afterwards.” He poured wine into all the assembled glasses. “Alicia, what’s this about Richard?” Alicia, a tall young woman with a head full of golden curls explained the ending of her latest relationship. This was already the second break-up story Charlotte had heard over a Sunday lunch in the past two months. 

“Uncle Sid, am I ever going to meet someone I’m actually compatible with?” Alicia groaned.

Sidney smiled fondly at her and then at his new wife. “Of course you are, sweetheart. Just be patient. Now, Jenny, you got the part? Tell us all about it.”

Jenny launched into her account of the play she had auditioned for. “It’s just a theatre above a pub but it’s in London and apparently talent scouts often go there so it might lead to more work. You are going to come see me in it, aren't you?” She looked imploringly at Sidney.

“Of course we are. We can have a day in London, do some Christmas shopping, take in the lights and see your play,” said Sidney.

“Our first Christmas,” said Charlotte, smiling.

“Only four weeks away,” said Alicia. “This kitchen was made to host Christmas. Can we hang stockings on the fireplace?”

“Of course you can,” replied Charlotte. 

“Now, what do you think of this wine?” said Sidney, holding up his glass. They all made a point of examining its colour, sniffing its aroma, giving the taste their considered opinion. When this ceremony had first started, they had all thought it funny to say things like, “Mmm I get shoestring with side notes of turnip.” But as they realised that Charlotte was really interested in growing their own vines, they began to take this weekly wine tasting more seriously. It was a project they could all take part in and share with their new aunt. 

“How are your plans coming, Charlotte?” said Henry shyly. This good-looking young man with a mop of sandy-coloured hair, was the quietest of the three, the only boy sandwiched between two noisy girls. Charlotte had struggled to get to know him better as his sisters always seemed to get in the way, so she was pleased when he asked her this question. “I’ve been doing so much reading, Henry, that I finally think I understand what’s required. There’s a vine growing course over in Plumpton and we’re going to sign up for that in the spring.” She looked over at Sidney and smiled. 

Three heads swivelled round to look at their uncle. “You’re going to learn to grow things, Uncle Sid, in a field?” said Alicia incredulously.

“Yes,” said Sidney patiently. “Why not?”

“Well, it’s not something you’ve ever done before, is it? Wear welly boots and get mud under your fingernails,” said Jenny.

Sidney shrugged. “I did building work, when I lived in Antigua, I got my hands dirty then. I’m looking forward to doing some physical work again.”

“And maybe you’d all like to come help us too,” said Charlotte. “When we’re ready, next year.”

They looked by turns surprised, intrigued, pleased.

“I’ll help you, Charlotte,” said Henry and the other two chimed in with their offers of help too.

After lunch, the three of them cleared the table and filled the dishwasher. Sidney had raised them well, they didn’t have to be told to help, they just did it automatically. Henry and Alicia left soon after but Jenny stayed on for a bit. She enjoyed spending time with Charlotte, she felt a sense of ownership over her since finding her and bringing her back into Sidney’s life. 

“Tell us more about this play,” said Charlotte. “What’s your part?”

“I’m going to be a busybody who tries to organise everyone else’s life for them,” she said and then saw their faces. Charlotte and Sidney were both trying hard not to laugh.

“Must have been a stretch for you,” said Sidney with an admirably straight face. “How on earth did you prepare yourself for that part?”

“Oh very funny,” Jenny said, pouting. “Anyway, I do it out of a sincere interest in people’s wellbeing, my character is much more mean-minded. And, as a matter of fact, I did have to dig deep to find my nasty side for the part.”

“I can’t believe there’s a nasty bone in your body,” said Charlotte, kindly. Sidney and Jenny exchanged a glance that said they knew better.

When Jenny had gone and Sidney and Charlotte were back in their converted barn, Sidney said, “Thank you for these Sundays. It can’t be much fun for you doing all that cooking and then watching those three clamoring for my attention.”

“I enjoy it, actually. I like watching you deal with them.” She told him about her image of the nest of baby birds. 

Sidney laughed uproariously, “That’s exactly what it feels like! I wonder if they’ll always be like that. When we’re in our 80s and they’re in their 50s will I still be feeding them with bits of worm?”

“Maybe they’ll change when they have children of their own.”

Sidney would wonder later why he asked his next question: “Would it have made a difference to you if those three were my actual children rather than my brother’s?”

Charlotte looked at him, thinking. Sidney loved the way she thought carefully before giving an answer to questions she didn’t immediately know the answer to. There was never any bluffing with her, she was always thoughtful and sincere.

“If I’m being perfectly honest, then yes, I think it would have,” she said slowly. “It wouldn’t have stopped me loving you or marrying you but I think it would have meant our relationship was not completely equal. They would have been a constant reminder of a life you’d had without me, of the existence of another woman. As it is, we both have pasts that really are in the past.” She stopped and laughed. “You see, I’m not the wise woman you always say I am. I can be just as petty and jealous as anyone else.”

“No you’re not,” he said, pulling her onto his lap. “You’re honest and wise and beautiful and that’s why I love you.”

“That makes me sound very austere,” she said running her hands through his hair.

“And funny and kind and very very sexy,” he whispered in her ear and then planted a row of kisses down the side of her neck which he now knew would make his wife quiver. 

Sidney was woken in the night by a dream which began to fade as soon as he was awake. He remembered the edges of it, bright sunlight on blue water, the screech of a bird, a man with a drum, a sense of dread. Getting carefully out of bed so as not to disturb Charlotte, he made his way to the kitchen for a glass of water, hoping that would shift the disturbing knot that had formed in his stomach. Glass in hand, he turned and saw the letter he had placed earlier on his desk and had since forgotten. There was something familiar about the envelope, it’s blueness… It suddenly came to him, the airmail letters he’d received in Antigua, the letters he had seen Antiguans receive from their families overseas. With a sense of foreboding that he couldn’t explain, he picked up the envelope and opened it. It was one sheet of paper written in a very precise hand:

Dear Mr Parker

My name is Coralie Browne. My mother was Yolanda Browne, née Thomas. She recently told me that you are my father. I am currently in London, staying with family. I would like to meet you. Please contact me.

Yours sincerely,

Miss Coralie Browne


	2. A daughter

Sidney sat and stared at the letter in his hand. His heart was pounding. Was that night going to haunt him forever? He felt overwhelmed once again by shame, as sour and unsettling as it had felt at the time. He looked at his watch. 5.30am. Charlotte would be up soon. He couldn’t see her. What was she going to think of him? He couldn’t bear the reproach he could already see on her face when he told her. He crept into the bedroom, saw she was still safely asleep and grabbed some clothes. He dressed quickly, left a note on the kitchen table: ‘Something came up. See you later. I love you.’ He picked up his phone and wallet, stuffed the letter into his coat pocket and left, making sure to close the door softly behind him. He got into his car and drove slowly away, wincing at the sound of the tyres on the gravel drive, hoping no one could hear him.

He didn’t know where he was driving to, he just needed time to think. Images from his time in Antigua came at him in waves. The turquoise sea, the white sand, the blazing sun… So beautiful and yet, at its heart, so rotten. A disgusting history that Yolanda had never let him forget. He needed to read the letter again. He parked up in a layby and took the letter out. It was still dark so he turned on the car light. How had he missed it? Coralie had written ‘my mother _was_ Yolanda Browne née Benjamin’. Those few words said so much: she had married and she had died. And before doing so, she had told her daughter who her father was. Sidney didn’t doubt for a moment that he was the father, despite the games Yolanda used to play. And it was all his fault that he hadn’t known sooner. 

He looked at the letter again and saw, with dismay, the postmark; it had been posted two weeks earlier. The volunteers must have mislaid the letter when it arrived at the community centre. Or it had been put to one side for when he next popped in. He hadn’t been to Sanditon much in recent months, only going when he absolutely had to, and always returning home as quickly as he could, unable to stay away from his new wife for longer than necessary. The letter already conveyed, in its cold business-like tone, that Yolanda had not spoken fondly of him and now this young woman would have assumed that he had ignored her letter. She had included her address, email and mobile number. Picking up his phone he texted:  
\- Dear Coralie, I am so sorry but your letter only found its way to me last night. I am free today, could I come and see you? All the very best, Sidney.

It wasn’t the way he would have liked to contact her for the first time but it was only 6.30am. Too early to phone. While waiting to see if she replied, he decided to drive to Pockton, where he could take the train to London if she said he could come. Parking in the station car park he made his way to a nearby cafe to wait for a response. His stomach still felt like it was twisted into a big knot but he ordered some toast and coffee and lay his phone on the table ready to answer it as soon as it beeped. 

He was gazing at a spindly plastic Christmas tree in the corner of the cafe when he suddenly thought: I have a daughter. His stomach unclenched and he felt a quiver of excitement. He had a daughter! He had long ago given up the thought that he would be a father, a biological father. His nieces and nephew were his children and he loved them dearly but to have a daughter of his own was something else, like an extraordinary gift he had just been given. 

\----------------------

In a house in North London, Coralie woke and looked at her phone. One text had arrived. She read it. She quickly replied that she would be able to see Sidney Parker later that day. She then wrapped herself in a warm dressing gown - she couldn’t believe how cold this country was - and went downstairs into the kitchen where she had heard the bustle of breakfast being made.

“Auntie, I’ve got an answer from him.. Finally.” Her aunt looked up from her breakfast and patted the chair next to her. Coralie sat down and her aunt poured her a cup of tea from the large brown teapot on the table.

“He says he’s only just received my letter. He wants to see me today. I said he could come here.” 

Her aunt looked at her niece’s serious face, at the tightly pursed lips. “Be nice to him, Coralie. He’s just discovered he’s got a daughter he didn’t know about.”

“Why should I be nice? Why didn’t he know?”

“Your mama, god rest her soul, was trouble.” She saw Coralie fiercely shake her head. “I’m sorry to say this but she was. She was a tease. Your father - your step-father, I suppose we should call him - was a saint. He was good for her but before he came along, oh my…” and she shook her head.

“All I know is, this white man came to _my_ island, got my mama pregnant and then abandoned us.”

“Oh poor man,” her aunt said softly, shaking her head. “At least give him tea and some of those cookies we made yesterday. I’ve got to get to work.” She bent down and planted a kiss on Coralie’s head and then grabbed her coat and bag and left her niece staring into her mug of tea.

\--------------------------

As soon as Sidney had received Coralie’s text he drained the last of his now cold coffee, stood up and walked swiftly back to the station where he bought a ticket for the train just about to leave for Victoria. The rush hour was just over so he found a seat and stared out the window as the Sussex countryside swept past. What was he going to say to her? How could he explain? He had no idea. He was just going to have to navigate past the upcoming   
boulders and jagged edges very very carefully. 

Arriving in London, he pushed his way through the crowds of people filling the station; it came as a shock how busy London was after the calm quiet of Willingden. He hesitated outside a flower stall. Should he take her something? What do you give a daughter you never knew you had? He carried on towards the tube station; there was nothing he could bring, except himself. Taking an escalator he descended down to the Victoria line platform and got on the tube for Tottenham Hale station. He checked his phone for the map to Coralie’s house. Although he had once lived in London, Tottenham was unknown to him. In fact, he reckoned that there were few areas of London more different from each other as Chelsea, where he had lived with Eliza, and Tottenham where he would first see his daughter. Chelsea was the playground of the wealthy with its elegant squares and townhouses and was overwhelmingly populated by white people. As the tube pulled into his station, he could already see that Tottenham was very different. A man wearing a turban, a woman in a headscarf, a black woman with two little children all pressed their way through the automatic doors with him and headed out of the station. Sidney checked the map on his phone again and walked west toward Tottenham High Road. It was turning into a cold grey winter’s day. He pushed his hands further into his coat pockets, wishing he’d brought gloves. But the chill he was feeling wasn’t solely down to the weather, but from the fear of the reception he expected to receive. He entered a grid of red brick terraced houses. The streets were quiet except for an old woman wrapped up in a thick wool coat dragging a shopping trolley. Everyone else was at work or in school. He found the address he had been given, a terraced house with a tiny front garden containing a wheelie bin. He pushed open the gate and rang the doorbell. 

The door opened and Sidney saw a slim young woman, her black hair falling to her shoulders in tiny plaits. She looked so much like her mother that he was all at once shaken back to a different time. And this feeling only intensified when he heard the Caribbean lilt in her voice as she said, “You’re Sidney? Come in.”  
She showed him into a small front room, made smaller by the large maroon sofa. She gestured to the sofa and he sat down after taking off his coat and folding it up next to him. She hadn’t offered to take it from him and indeed there was nothing welcoming about the tight expression on her face. She sat in the armchair facing him and he felt like she had deliberately placed him on the lower sofa to put him at a disadvantage. The room was very warm which was a welcome contrast to the cold outside but he could tell would soon become uncomfortable. 

She was staring at him, scrutinising him as if he were a sample in a biology lab. The silence was becoming painful leading Sidney to blurt out, “I was pleased to receive your letter.”

“Were you?” Her eyes were cold as she stared at him.

“Yes, of course I was. I’m sorry it took so long to get to me. It was given to my niece and then she gave it to me yesterday and then I read it this morning.”

“Early this morning.”

Sidney smiled ruefully. “Very early this morning. But I wanted to see you as soon as I knew that…” He trailed off.

“As soon as you knew you had a daughter you’d abandoned.” 

“Yes - no! I didn’t abandon you. I didn’t know you existed.”

“I don’t understand, how could you not know?”

“Because I wasn’t there!”

Coralie glared at him and he returned her look with a face filled with regret and shame. Finally, he said, “What did your mother tell you?”

“She said that the man I had always thought was my papa was in fact my step-father and that I was the product of an ill-advised encounter with a rich white man who was living on our island. She said that you had your fun, left her pregnant and then disappeared with no forwarding address. Did she lie?”

Sidney listened, appalled. This was the truth but... “No, she didn’t lie.”

“Hmph, I thought so,” said Coralie with grim satisfaction. 

Sidney felt a flash of anger. “If you’re so happy to discover I’m a scumbag, why bother looking for me in the first place?”

This seemed to throw her and she looked uncertain for the first time. “I… I wanted… I hoped that maybe there was a reason for…”

Sidney’s anger left as quickly as it had come. “Coralie, I hope I’m not as bad a person as you think I am. Your mother and I, well, it was complicated. What she said to you are the bald facts but there was more to it than that. And I really, truly, did not know she was pregnant. The day after we… well, after you were conceived, I had a phone call from England telling me that my brother and sister-in-law had been killed in a car accident. I went immediately to the airport and came back here. They left three little children, my nieces and nephew, and they had no one except me who could look after them so I stayed.”

Coralie’s face had softened slightly but she still said, with reproach in her voice, “But you never wrote to mama or to anyone to say what had happened or to give your address.”

“I phoned work and told them I wasn’t coming back. And I meant to write but I was so busy… My nieces and nephew wouldn’t let me out of their sight, I could barely get washed and dressed, let alone write a letter.”

“And if you had known mama was pregnant with me, what would you have done?”

Sidney jerked forward, opened his mouth and then closed it again. He shook his head. “Oh Coralie,” he said softly. “I…”

“You’d still have abandoned us!” she said angrily.

“Or I would have abandoned my nieces and nephew,” Sidney replied sadly. “Either way, I would have done a terrible thing.”

They sat in silence for a while after that, Sidney still reeling from Coralie’s devastating question. Finally he roused himself and said gently, “In your letter, you wrote of your mother in the past tense. Has she…”

“Died? Yes, she died six months ago. Cancer. We couldn’t afford for her to go abroad for treatment. She might have lived otherwise.”

“I am very sorry to hear that. And your father, what of him?”

“My step-father is very sad that his wife has died.”

“But he’s been good to you? He’s a good father?”

“Yes, he’s a fine man. He encouraged me to come here. He always knew he wasn’t my real father but mama didn’t want me to know so he didn’t say anything.” She paused and then said, “But why do you keep calling him my ‘father’? Are you denying what you are to me?”

“No, Coralie,” said Sidney gently. “But there’s more to being a father than just helping conceive you. Your father raised you, I did nothing. I could be another father to you, if you let me, but never deny who your real father is.”

Coralie looked taken aback by these words and said, abruptly, “Do you want tea?” She got up before he could reply and left the room. Sidney, left alone, sat back heavily onto the plump sofa cushions. He felt like he had just done a round against a heavyweight boxer and the referee had just called ‘time out.’ It really was very warm, he touched the radiator and immediately removed his hand, scalded by the heat. He was pulling off his sweater when Coralie came back in with two mugs of tea.

“You must be feeling the cold,” Sidney said as she handed him a mug.

She smiled ruefully, “Is it too hot in here? Auntie is always telling me to turn the radiator down.”

“I remember how I had to readjust to the cold when I first got back here,” he said smiling at her. 

“What were you even _doing_ in Antigua?” she asked.

Uh oh, thought Sidney, round two had just begun. “I was trying to understand my history, to make amends somehow…”

“Your family were slave owners.” It was a statement and an accusation.

“Yes.” What else could he say?

There was silence again, which Sidney broke by asking, “How did you find me?”

“Google. Mama said you were from a resort on the South coast so I narrowed down all the Sidney Parkers till I found your name mentioned in something to do with a community centre so I sent my letter there.”

“I used to live there.”

“Where? in a community centre?” she looked confused.

“No, in the house where the centre is now.”

She still looked confused. He had this overwhelming urge to say something that would please this young woman and so he said, “It was built originally with money made from slavery. I couldn’t bear to live there anymore so I gave it away to be used to benefit other people.”

Coralie’s anger suddenly flared back up. “You gave away a house and you came on a trip to my island and you think that makes up for my people being bought and sold like animals!”

“No!” said Sidney appalled. “No, of course not! I just wanted you to know that I understand - a little. Of course I can’t begin to feel what you feel - but I have tried and I am trying to do the right thing now.”

“And still you came, like so many white men before you, and took what you wanted from us. You’re just the same as all the rest!”

Yolanda had said the same thing to him and the words cut deep. His phone beeped and absently, he looked at it. It was Charlotte wondering where he was and if he was alright.

“It’s my wife. She wants to know where I am.”

“You haven’t told her about me then? Of course not.” The tight angry look was back on her face.

“Coralie, I haven’t had time,” he said slowly, patiently. “I’m going to go now. But I am going home to tell my wife and then I am going to tell my nieces and nephew and then we will meet again, ok?”

Coralie gave a little shrug but she didn’t say no. Sidney put his sweater back on and then his coat and headed towards the door. She followed him. On the doorstep, he turned round and said, “Coralie, you’re angry with me. I understand that. But I would like to get to know you, if you’ll let me.”

She smiled tentatively and gave a short nod. 

“Good,” he replied and set off back to the station.


	3. Shame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all your great comments! I know you're all concerned as to what Charlotte's reaction will be and in this chapter you'll find out.

Sidney stood in Victoria Station, waiting for his train to arrive. He was oblivious to the swirl of bodies around him, the incessant coming and going of people hurrying from one place to another. He was obsessively thinking of Coralie’s question: if he had known about her, would he have stayed? It went back and forth in his mind, the children in England, the baby in Antigua, who would he choose? The impossibility of giving the right answer was making him feel feverish. He felt a hand on his arm and heard someone say, “Sidney, what are you doing here?” He turned round and saw Alison, his sister-in-law, staring at him, concerned.

“Alison,” he muttered. “Oh, something came up…” He winced, remembering these were the words he had used in the note he’d left Charlotte - was it only that morning? It felt like days ago.

“Something came up?” she repeated, “in London? I didn’t think you ever came to London on business.”

“No, no I don’t…” he trailed off.

“Are you ok?” She looked really concerned now. 

“Not really,” he gave her a half-smile.

“Charlotte phoned me earlier. She said you had disappeared. She’s worried about you.” She frowned at him. “If you were anyone else I would think you were having an affair.”

“What! Me? An affair! I’d never do that, never…. Oh, sorry, that’s not what you said.”

“No, it wasn’t.” 

Just then the tannoy came alive and announced their train had arrived.

“You’re coming home now, right?” asked Alison.

“Yes,” 

“Come on, let’s get that train.”

It was still only early afternoon, so the train was fairly empty and they found window seats opposite each other. 

“Whatever’s going on, Sidney, you can talk to Charlotte, you know that.”

“I know I can. I just don’t want to hurt her.”

“She’s tough, she can deal with whatever you tell her.”

“I know she is, but why should she have to be strong with me? I only want to bring her happiness.” Sidney looked at her, distressed.

“And you do, Sidney. I’ve never seen my sister as happy as she’s been with you.”

“Really?” he said shyly, pleased.

“Yes, really. Talk to her.”

Sidney suddenly roused himself. “And you, Alison, how are things with Crowe? I take it that’s why you were in London.”

“They’re, um, good, thank you,” she said, reddening a little.

“That’s exactly what Crowe says when I ask him,” said Sidney smiling. “That’s ok, you don’t have to tell me. I’m just happy for you both.”

“Um, can I ask you something about Crowe?” said Alison hesitantly. “It’s just… why does he keep a dead squirrel in his freezer?”

Sidney stared at her and then laughed, uproariously. “I didn’t know he still had her! Well, the story is….” And he proceeded to tell her a long story about a squirrel, a chemistry lab and a cricket ball, that lasted until they arrived back in Pockton. 

A good laugh and a reminder of more innocent times restored Sidney sufficiently that he felt able to face Charlotte when he finally arrived back at their home in Willingden. The days were getting shorter and the light was already fading. Sidney stood for a moment in the gathering gloom and looked through the window at Charlotte. She was curled up on the sofa reading under the warm light of a standard lamp, her reading glasses slipping down her nose as they always did. He watched her push them back up and felt a wave of love for this woman who had agreed to be his wife. 

He pushed his key in the lock and went in. Charlotte had lit the woodburner and it was warm and cosy after the cold and dark outside. She looked up as she saw him and took off her glasses. She gave him a questioning concerned look. “You’re back.” 

“I am.” He took off his coat and came and sat down next to her. He looked at the book she’d been reading and smiled. “Is there nothing you don’t know now about making wine?”

“There’s always something more to know.” Sidney took her hand in his and kissed it. “So,” said Charlotte, “Something came up?”

Sidney sighed. He felt in his pocket for Coralie’s letter and handed it over. “Jenny brought this over yesterday.” Charlotte put her glasses back on and read the letter. She then stared at Sidney, her face unreadable. 

“You have a daughter you didn’t know about.” A statement, not a question but he nodded. “And you saw her today?” He nodded again. She stood up suddenly. Sidney reached for her hand and she snatched it away. “I just need to be alone for a….” she muttered and ran out of the house. Sidney was left feeling like he had been slapped. She had never rejected his touch, not once. Stunned, he sat and waited for her to return.

Charlotte felt the cold air as soon as she was outside. She shivered and let herself into the farmhouse kitchen. There were no guests staying with them today, the last had left that morning. Alison was somewhere upstairs, in the little flat they used to share, but she didn’t want to talk to her. She had a daughter of her own and now so did Sidney. How could he have a child he knew nothing of? She laughed bitterly to herself. Men! They could just blithely go about producing children they neither knew nor wanted. Whilst she, who had so desperately wanted a child and who had tried so hard to have one, had been unable to produce a baby who lived. She felt angry, jealous and then very sad. The moment passed and she went back home.

Sidney sat up when she returned, his face full of concern and trepidation. “Charlotte, what is it?”

“It doesn’t matter. Tell me it all, from the beginning.” She sat back down next to him but her arms crossed tightly around her body told Sidney she was still wary. He knew Charlotte would expect nothing less than his absolute honesty, so for the first time with anyone, he recounted what happened.

“I don’t think I’ve really told you about my time in Antigua,” he began. “I probably glossed over it by saying the four years were ‘carefree’ years or something like that. It was actually a lot more complicated than that. It was certainly a relief to be there, to be away from my life with Eliza. Everything was interesting because it was all so new to me. The island was spectacular, like everything you’d expect from a tropical paradise. The sea was so many shades of blue, the sand was like pinky-white powder and there were flowers everywhere with the most vivid colours - red and purple and orange. The sun beat down out of a perfectly blue sky and I felt like I was being purified by the heat, like all the angst and unhappiness was being burnt out of me. 

“I joined a volunteer project, building a school. There were a few of us there, all in our twenties, all white, mainly from Britain and the US. The project leader, Gary, was also white. It felt a bit strange that there were no Antiguans involved, but what did I know? Gary seemed to know what he was doing. He gave us this talk when we arrived, warning the guys not to get involved romantically with the local women. He was very serious about it, telling us how white slave owners used to rape their black slaves and that this history was rooted in the Antiguans’ collective memory. I took this warning as seriously as he had given it, but other volunteers ignored it. They’d say, “But slavery was hundreds of years ago, what’s it got to do with now?” and I’d see them flirting with the black girls we saw around. But Charlotte, slavery might have ended, but it was still a British colony right until a few years before I arrived. The Antiguans weren’t slaves, but they still had British names, learnt about the history of Britain at school and had to celebrate the Royal Family. They didn’t cut sugar cane for their masters but they worked for pitiful wages in the white man’s fancy hotels, waiting on their white guests on their private beaches. 

“I didn’t want to be one of these white men who came and took what they wanted and then left. I wanted to know real Antiguans and learn about their lives, so when the project was finished I looked for other building work. There was a lot of building going on, so jobs were easy to find, but there were no other white men employed on the sites. The black guys thought I was strange, they didn’t know what to make of me. But very slowly, they began to accept me - not completely but enough. I still used to hang out with volunteers who came and worked for the charity I’d been involved with. I wouldn’t go out with an Antiguan girl but there were enough foreign volunteers to have fun with. After a while, I moved to another part of the island for another building project and that’s where I met Coralie’s mother. She’d often be sitting outside as I walked back from work. She’d call out, “Hey, rich boy, how ya doing?” After a few of these encounters, I replied and said, “So you know my name, what’s yours?” She laughed. She had this big easy laugh. “Yolanda,” she said. After that she’d always have some jibe for me, trying to provoke me. But I took it all. I’d ask her questions about her life and at first she’d shrug and say it wasn’t interesting. Eventually she told me about her job cleaning hotel rooms and I told her about Sanditon. This went on for months until one night I went to a party on the beach.”

Sidney stood up, and walked towards the window. He suddenly felt very nervous. How could he tell Charlotte what happened next? Lovely kind Charlotte. He couldn’t bear her to think badly of him. Staring out the window into the dark, he began.

“The volunteers invited me to the party. They had a bonfire on the beach, we grilled fish they had caught and we drank rum. The nights were amazing on Antigua. One minute it would be bright sunshine, the next, the sky had exploded into reds and pinks and then it would be pitch-black. There was a plant that bloomed only at night, with big white flowers and a scent that was almost overpowering in its sweetness. I was coming home, drunk on rum and too much sun and the flowers’ perfume. I heard Yolanda calling to me, “Hey rich boy, out with your white girlfriends again? Don’t you like us black girls?””

He could sense Charlotte behind him, moving forward in her seat, concentrating. This was a memory that he had tried to forget. He used to return to it, irresistibly probing it like you do a painful wound. But slowly it had scabbed over and he had left it alone. Now he was ripping that scab off and exposing his shame, anger and humiliation to the woman he loved more than his own life. He took a deep shuddering sigh and continued. 

“I walked towards her, sensing danger but unable to resist. 

“I like black girls,” I said. 

“Do you like this black girl?” she said pointing at herself. 

“Very much,” I said. 

“But you don’t want to show me how much?” 

“I don’t want to take advantage.”

“Always such a good boy, aren’t you?” She smiled sweetly at me. “So, are you going to kiss me then?”

I should have left. I should have left right then, Charlotte, but I didn't. I kissed her and she took my hand and drew me into the room she lived in. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” I managed to ask before we got too far and she didn’t reply but also she didn’t push me away. I took a condom out of my wallet and I asked her again if she wanted me to stop but she just helped me put the condom on.

Afterwards, she immediately got out of bed and stood by the window. I said, “Are you alright?” and she turned round so that I could see her face in the moonlight. I’ve tried so hard, so hard, to forget the look she gave me. She looked… disappointed.

“You’re just like all the rest of them,” she said bitterly.

“You said… you wanted…” I stammered. “I don’t understand.”

“Oh just go.”

So I went. 

I was so angry, Charlotte. She wanted me to disappoint her and she manipulated me so that I would. I was furious with her and angry at myself for letting it happen. I wanted to be different, I didn’t want to be like those other white guys on the island. And in the end I had been no different. It was humiliating.”

He paused, consumed by the same emotions he had felt at the time. When he felt able to continue he said,

“Later the next day I was called into the site office at work to answer a call from the family solicitor in Sanditon. He told me that my brother and sister-in-law had been killed in a car accident and I said I'd come back immediately. I packed my bags and went straight to the airport and came home. I found Alicia, Henry and Jenny with no one to look after them except some elderly relatives. I decided to stay and look after them myself. I phoned work and told them but that’s all I did. I told Coralie that I didn’t have time to write, that my nieces and nephew wouldn’t let me out of their sight long enough to do anything for myself. But the truth is Charlotte, I had no intention of writing to her. I was relieved I could devote myself to those children and not have to think about her or what we’d done.”

Sidney came to a stop. The room was quiet except for the crack and hiss of the wood in the log burner. He took a deep breath and turned around, knowing it was time to accept whatever verdict Charlotte would pronounce. She was looking at him thoughtfully; she didn’t look angry or hurt; she didn’t look ready to walk out again. He took all this in and began to breathe a little easier.

“Do you know what I think?” she said eventually. “I think she liked you, I mean really liked you.”

Sidney hadn’t expected that reaction. He came back and sat down beside her.

“What do you mean?”

“I think she wanted you to woo her, to say lovely things to her, not just to sleep with her.”

“Really? But she was always so sharp with me, telling me all my white man faults.”

“Remember how you used to constantly provoke me? You said it was because you wanted me to notice you.”

Sidney was stunned. He said wonderingly, “Did I completely misread the situation?”

“Maybe in being so careful not to contribute to the suffering heaped onto black people you forgot that in the end we’re all just human beings with the same complex emotions, whatever colour we are.”

Sidney gazed at her, taking in what she had said and thinking about what had happened but in this new light.

“Do you think you could have loved her?” Charlotte asked softly, looking down at her lap. 

Sidney wanted to reach out and touch her, reassure her, but Charlotte still had her arms wrapped around herself making it impossible. Instead he looked steadily at her, willing her to look at him, and said, “I couldn’t love anyone like I love you.”

He saw her arms relax a little but her eyes continued to look down. “But if you had stayed, if you had known she was pregnant?”

“Honestly? I don’t know. I don’t think I really wanted a serious relationship with anyone at that point. But if I’d known she was pregnant, I would have tried to do my best by her and by Coralie.”

Charlotte finally looked at him, gave a slight nod and then said, “Tell me about today.”

Sidney told her everything from waking early that morning to seeing Alison on the way home. 

“I can’t imagine what that was like for you, meeting your daughter for the first time.”

“It was… weird. It was like I knew her but at the same time she was a complete stranger.”

“Did you like her though?”

“She didn’t give me the opportunity.” He shook his head. “She was so angry with me, Charlotte. And she was right to be. I wasn't there for her. But if I had been and my nieces and nephew had needed me too, what would I have done? Coralie asked me that. What an impossible question...”

“But you didn’t know and you didn’t have to choose,” said Charlotte taking his hand in hers. “And she’s just lost her mum. She feels abandoned. I remember a sad angry boy I once knew, grieving for the loss of his parents.” 

He looked at her in wonder. “Oh Charlotte, why didn’t I think of that? What an idiot I’ve been.”

She laughed softly and stroked his face with her hand. “You’re not an idiot. Sometimes it’s just easier to see things when you’re not so closely involved.

Sidney leaned over and kissed her gently on the lips. “I love you Charlotte Heywood. You are the wisest, most lovely person I know.” He watched as her cheeks turned pink. He loved that he could still make her blush. “Now, tell me, why did you run out earlier?”

Her face grew serious. “I’m ashamed to say it was because I was jealous.”

“Jealous?” Sidney’s face was filled with concern.

“You had a daughter without knowing and I couldn’t have a daughter at all.”

“Oh Charlotte!” Sidney said, gathering her up into his arms. They lay there for a while, drawing strength from each other’s warmth and love until a low rumble emanated from Sidney’s stomach. Charlotte pulled away, laughing. “When did you last eat?”

Sidney, laughing too, replied, “Some toast this morning.”

Charlotte stood up and held out her hand to pull Sidney up too. “Come on, hungry boy, let’s go make some dinner.”

Later, whilst they were eating, Charlotte said, “ Why don’t you invite Coralie to stay with us for a week or two so we can get to know her?”

Sidney looked up, pleased, “Really? You don’t mind?”

“Why would I mind? She’s your daughter. She’s part of our family now.”

“But I remember you saying that if I had a child of my own it would upset the balance, that our marriage wouldn’t be equal.” 

“That was an answer to an abstract question. This is reality. And anyway we’ll be getting to know her together.”

“That’s true.” He thought for a moment. “Why don’t I ask her to come down this Saturday and stay?”

“And be here for Sunday lunch? You’re going to have to tell your nieces and nephew who she is before then.”

“I know. How do you think they’ll take the news?”

The worry that appeared on Charlotte’s face echoed his own sudden apprehension.

\-------------------------

In Tottenham, Coralie was eating dinner with her aunt and uncle.

“Did he come?” asked her aunt. “All the cookies are still in the tin.”

“I made tea and he was lucky I did that.”

Her aunt looked at the severe expression on her face. “Why? What did he do wrong?”

“Nothing,” Coralie had to admit.

“Why are you so angry with him?” asked her uncle

“Because he left me.”

“Did he explain why?”

“He said his brother and sister-in-law died and he had to stay in England to look after his nieces and nephew so he didn’t know mama was pregnant.”

Her aunt looked astonished. “He raised his orphan nieces and nephew on his own? A young man like that!”

“Yes,” said Coralie. “So what?”

Her aunt shook her head in exasperation at her niece and looked at her husband, who said, “He sounds like a good man, Coralie.”

“Pfft! And he had the cheek to tell me that he turned his house into a community centre because it was built on the proceeds of slavery.”

She saw her aunt’s and uncle’s eyes grow round in disbelief. “Who is this man?” cried her aunt. “A white man doing such things…!”

“What do you mean?” asked Coralie, suspiciously.

Her uncle shook his big kind head at her. “Coralie, white men don’t do things like that. Sure, there are good white people here but no one talks of how this country’s wealth is based on slavery. I’d like to meet this man.”

“I would too,” agreed his wife.

Coralie looked at them both, realising she was going to have to reassess this man who was her father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're interested in the legacy of slavery and British colonialism in Antigua, I urge you to read 'A Small Place' by Jamaica Kincaid. It's a very short book - took me an hour to read - and is absolutely compelling, gripping from the first sentence to the last.


	4. Conversations

The next day, Sidney sent out a message out on his family’s Whatsapp group:  
I need to see you before Sunday. Can you all come round tomorrow evening. Nothing to worry about.

His phone immediately started ringing.  
“What’s wrong…?”  
“Are you sick...?”  
“You’re scaring me…”  
He did his best to reassure them that he was fine and just had something to tell them.

He had already phoned Coralie to invite her to stay with them for a week or two to meet her new family. They arranged that Sidney would go to Tottenham for lunch with Coralie, her aunt and uncle and the two of them would travel back to Willingden together.

Jenny, Henry and Alicia all arrived on Wednesday evening looking anxious, despite Sidney’s assurances. They sat down, Charlotte offered to make tea and Jenny burst out, “I don’t mean to be funny, Charlotte, but we’re not here for tea. Just tell us, Sid, what’s going on? We’ve been imagining the worst!” Sidney sat down with them and Charlotte went to put the kettle on anyway.

“Well, the thing is...” Sidney started.

“I knew it, you are sick!” cried Jenny looking at her siblings triumphant and terrified at the same time.

“I’m not sick,” said Sidney. “I have a daughter.”

His news was greeted by silence and three shocked faces.

Alicia was first to speak. “What do you mean, a daughter?”

“I mean, I helped conceive a daughter but I never knew till now. Her name’s Coralie Browne, she’s 20, she’s from Antigua, her mother’s just died and you’ll meet her on Sunday.”

Henry looked wonderingly at his uncle and said, “Cool.” Sidney smiled at him in gratitude. 

“You’ve met her then?” said Alicia. 

“Yes, on Monday.”

“What’s she like?”

“At the moment she’s angry with me for not knowing she existed.”

“And why didn’t you know? Just a minute... You said she was 20. Mum and dad died 21 years ago. Did you leave her mother to look after us?”

“Something like that.”

Jenny finally spoke. “And if you had known about her, would you have still come back for us or would you have stayed there with her?”

Sidney looked at the anguish on Jenny’s face. How was he ever to answer this impossible question? He couldn't, so he replied, “I can’t answer that, sweetheart The fact is I stayed with you.”

“But what would have happened to us if you hadn’t?” Jenny’s voice had a note of hysteria in it.

“Jenny, Jenny, listen to me,” said Sidney putting his arm around her. “I _was_ ; there, I _did_ take care of you. And I’m still here and I’m not going anywhere. I will always be there for you.” 

“How do you know she’s telling the truth, Uncle Sid?” said Alicia. “She could be anyone.”

Sidney sighed. “She’s telling the truth, Alicia. I know she is.”

“But how do you know?” said Jenny, grasping onto the possibility that this disturbing news wasn’t true.

“Enough, you two,” said Sidney, firmly. “You’re going to have to accept that Coralie is now part of our family. I raised you to be good kind people. Coralie’s mother has died recently and unfortunately we all know how traumatic that is, so be nice to her. I don’t want to hear anymore of these suspicions or doubts.”

Charlotte had been listening in and was amused to hear Sidney being the stern parent. So far, she had only seen him as the patient and loving one. It was another glimpse of how his life had been with them. She thought now was probably a good time for tea and homemade biscuits, so she made up a tray and took it over. Sidney smiled gratefully up at her. 

As the tea was poured out and biscuits handed out, Henry said, “I’m looking forward to meeting her. I think it’ll be cool to have another cousin. We’ve got Janey now and we like her, don’t we?” He looked at his sisters. He took a bite of his biscuit and then added, “Too many girls though. Can’t you discover a son you never knew you had?”  
Sidney roared with laughter and ruffled Henry’s hair. “Sorry, no can do.” 

Although Jenny and Alicia smiled at their brother’s request, they stayed silent until they said their goodbyes.

“Those poor loves, ” said Charlotte when they were alone again. “They haven’t recovered from losing both parents so young. They’re not going to want to share you.”

\-------------------------------

Saturday arrived and Sidney once again made the journey up to North London. This time, however, he picked up a beautiful bouquet of delphiniums at Victoria Station for Coralie’s aunt. Coralie met him at the door. This time she offered him a small smile and took his coat before showing him through to the dining room. A tall man with a moustache and bald head greeted him in a voice that had the remains of a Caribbean lilt, “You must be Sidney. I’m Winston, Coralie’s uncle and Yolanda’s brother.” Sidney shook his hand whilst a short woman with close cropped hair and bright eyes came out of the galley kitchen wiping her hands on a tea towel. “Sidney, you’re very welcome. I’m Gloria, Winston’s wife.”

“These are for you,” said Sidney handing over his bunch of gorgeous blue flowers. Gloria beamed with pleasure and took them off to find a vase.

“Sit down, sit down,” said Winston and he and Sidney sat down at the round dining table. Through a back door, Sidney could see a small yard filled with plants.

Coralie went into the kitchen to see if she could help. Her aunt shooed her out, but not before saying, “Coralie, you didn’t say he was handsome as a movie star!”

Sidney pretended he hadn’t heard and turned to Winston, “Thank you for inviting me. This must be strange for you too.”

Winston sighed. “I’m a few years older than Yolanda. I came to England when she was still a very young woman. Sidney, I have to say, she was always a handful.”

Sidney looked at him surprised but said carefully, “She always treated me as I deserved.”

“Diplomatically put,” Winston chuckled. “But, tell me, did you two have a relationship or was it a case of ships in the night?”

“We were… friends?” Sidney said hesitantly. 

“You don’t sound sure.”

It was Sidney’s turn to sigh. “I don’t know what you’d call us. We knew each other for a while. We talked. She told me off. I liked her. But I think in the end I hurt her deeply and for that I am truly sorry.”

Winston looked at him and nodded. “I appreciate your honesty, Sidney. There are a lot of men who wouldn’t be so honest, nor would they step up to their responsibilities when faced with a daughter they didn’t know they had.”

They both glanced at Coralie, who didn’t know where to look so stared at her lap.

There had been the sounds of frying and boiling coming from the kitchen and then Gloria called, “Coralie, come and help me with the plates.” 

Sidney started to stand, saying, “Can I help?” but Winston waved him back down again. “I hope you’re hungry, Gloria’s made us a treat in your honour.”

Sidney could see a little of what was happening in the kitchen and started to get excited. As Gloria came out with a plate piled high with fried fish, Sidney said, “You’ve made ducana and saltfish! I haven’t eaten that for over twenty years.”

“I thought I’d give you a little reminder of Antigua,” said Gloria smiling, as Coralie put down a plate of the coconut and sweet potato mixture. Gloria went and came back with a bowl of okra and they all sat down to eat. Sidney took a mouthful of the salty sweet food and was transported back to the Caribbean.

“This is absolutely delicious, Gloria.”

“You’re very welcome Sidney. Now tell us something about yourself. You’re married, I see,” she said looking at his wedding ring. “Do you and your wife have children?”

Sidney laughed. “No, we’ve only been together eight months and married for three of them.”

They all looked at him in surprise. “A whirlwind romance?” said Gloria.

“Yes and no. We actually met at university but, well, it wasn’t our time. And then we met again this year and, well, this time it was the right time.”

“I sense there’s more to this story that he’s letting on,” said Gloria, looking at her husband who just chuckled. 

Then he grew serious and said, “How does your wife feel about Coralie? It’s a lot to take in when you’ve just got married.”

Sidney turned to Coralie and said, “She’s looking forward to meeting you and welcoming you to our family.” Coralie gave him her small smile again.

“So you have no other children? Coralie told us you raised your nieces and nephew, as if they were yours.”

“That’s right. Henry, Alicia and Jenny. They’re all in their 20s now and left home. And you, do you have children?”

“Two daughters, in their 20s too and left home. Jackie’s a teacher and Marie is a hospital administrator,” said Gloria proudly.

“And what do you do, Sidney?” asked Winston.

Sidney paused. He hated admitting what he did for a living, it never went down well. “I’m a landlord and property developer.”

This news was greeted with the stony silence he had expected. He gave a nervous laugh. “I know, it’s as bad as saying I’m a banker.”

“And I thought we were going to be friends,” said Winston with a sigh.

“Winston works for a housing advice charity,” explained Gloria. “I’m afraid private landlords are the enemy as far as he’s concerned.”

Sidney held up his hands. “I really hope I’m not your enemy. I do try hard to be a responsible landlord.”

Coralie, who had said nothing up till now but who had been listening intently to everything that was said, suddenly spoke up, “If anyone asked me what I do I think I’d say I was a hired assassin and then watch them squirm.”

They all stared at her in surprise and then Sidney grinned at her and she grinned back.

“Look Winston!” cried Gloria pointing at them both. “I didn’t see the resemblance at first but look at them, they have the same smile.” 

Winston slapped Sidney on the back and said, “We were just ribbing you before. I can see you’re a good man.”

Gloria cleared the plates from the table and came back with a plate of sliced pineapple. 

“Antiguan black pineapple?” said Sidney, smiling.

“It is,” said Gloria happily.

“I didn’t know you could buy them in England.”

“You can buy anything in London.”

Sidney picked up a piece and bit into its juicy sweetness. “I’d forgotten how good they taste.”

“Coralie tracked you down in Sanditon, is that where you live?” asked Winston.

“I still work there but I’ve moved in with my wife in a little village called Willingden. It’s  
actually not too far from Sanditon. Charlotte runs a bed and breakfast there with her sister. It’s an old farmhouse that their family have lived in for centuries. We live in a small barn we converted that’s just across the yard.”

“It sounds beautiful,” said Gloria wistfully.

“Well, next time you must come to us,” said Sidney firmly.

“We’ll take you up on that Sidney,” said Winston. “With pleasure.”

After Sidney’s offer to help with the washing-up had been brushed aside, it was time to go. Sidney thanked Gloria and Winston warmly for a truly splendid lunch and invited them once again to come visit them in Wilingden. Winston and Sidney exchanged phone numbers and finally it was time for Sidney and Coralie to leave. She hugged her aunt and uncle and said she’d see them in a week or two. They headed off for the tube station, Coralie pulling her suitcase behind her, having refused Sidney’s offer to take it for her.

Despite herself, Coralie had found herself warming to her newly discovered father. He was kind and humble, her aunty and uncle obviously liked him and their opinion counted for a lot. As they made their way across London and then on the train to Sussex, Sidney asked her questions about herself. She told him about her life in Antigua, about her other father, and about how her mama had become sick. She explained how she had put off her plans to go to university to stay with her mother, taking over her job cleaning rooms in one of the big hotel complexes on the island. They talked about cricket, both being big fans; Sidney admitting that he always rooted for the West Indies rather than England since his time in Antigua. Coralie spoke of her love of reading and how exciting it was that Antigua finally had a new library; over 40 years since the last one was destroyed in The Earthquake. “And do I take it that you like reading thrillers?” asked Sidney thinking back to her comment about being a hired assassin. Coralie grinned at him in reply.

Their train pulled into Pockton station and they got off and found Sidney’s car in the station car park. “I’m afraid it’s very quiet where we live,” said Sidney as they drove off. “I hope you won’t be bored.”

“I think I’ll like it,” said Coralie. “London’s been fun but I’m not used to living in such a big city.”

“I can imagine. There’s probably more people living in Tottenham than the whole of Antigua.” 

But at least a lot of those people in Tottenham are black like me, she thought but didn’t say. By the time their train had left the outskirts of London, she was the only black person in their carriage. It gave her a peculiar feeling; she felt strangely vulnerable.

The drove to Willingden in the dark so Coralie couldn’t see much of where they were going. When they arrived, she had the impression of a large house set in a big garden. After parking, they walked around the side of the house towards a small one-storey building. Sidney opened the door and Coralie walked straight into a cosy living room, with a kitchen at the far end. A woman with big brown eyes and a wide warm smile stood up as they came in.  
“You must be Coralie, I’m so pleased to meet you! I’m Charlotte.” She took her coat and drew her towards a wood-burning stove. “Come and sit down, you must be freezing, it’s so cold outside,” and gestured for her to sit on a soft green sofa. “Now what can I get you? Some tea and cake?” Coralie nodded and Charlotte was off to put the kettle on. 

Sidney walked over and kissed his wife and then joined Coralie by the stove. “You ok?” he asked.

“Yes, I’m… it’s very nice here, thank you.” She smiled at him. A ginger cat that had been dozing by the stove jumped on her lap, turned around twice then went back to sleep again.

“You’ve just been greeted by the most important member of the family,” Sidney laughed. Then he said, “I hope you don’t mind but you’ll be sleeping in the main house. We don’t have a spare bedroom here - just this room, our bedroom and a bathroom. Charlotte will take you over later and show you your room.” 

Charlotte arrived with cake and plates and a pot of tea. “I hope you like cake,” said Sidney. “Charlotte likes to bake so there’s always something good to eat. She’s on her way to making me fat.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, there’s not an ounce of fat on you!” said Charlotte swatting his arm. 

“Now, you two, tell me about your day.”

They sat there and chatted and ate cake and drank tea. Coralie felt relaxed and at ease. She found herself talking freely to these two grown-ups. It had taken her a while to warm to Sidney but she felt drawn to Charlotte immediately. She was so friendly and welcoming; she was hard to resist. And although she and Sidney were obviously devoted to each other, they never made her feel excluded. 

After dinner, Sidney pulled out some photo albums that he had brought over from Sanditon.  
“I thought you might like to see some pictures of our family,” he said to Coralie. “And you too, Charlotte. I haven’t shown you these before.” The three of them sat on the sofa, Sidney in the middle so he could explain each picture to them. Charlotte and Coralie saw, for the first time, Sidney’s parents, a glamorous couple dressed for tennis, sitting on a yacht, lying by a pool. Sometimes it was just them, sometimes they were with their two boys; Sidney’s brother Tom, as blond as Sidney was dark. There were pictures of Tom and his wife Mary, an elegantly dressed couple. Then further back there were faded photos of grandparents and great-aunts and uncles. The three of them looked at these pictures with very different thoughts running through their heads. For Sidney it was with a sense of melancholy that he looked at these people, all now long dead. Charlotte marvelled at the wealth of the people in the photos, so obviously more well-to-do than any of her family had been. And Coralie came to the realisation that all these white people were her family too. How strange, she thought, that I am half-white when I am so obviously black. If mama had been white but not English, it would be easy to understand my two different backgrounds. But because mama was black, I am black. It was a strange new idea and one that she felt she would need to give further consideration. 

When it was time for bed, Charlotte took Coralie across the yard and into the main house. “I’ve put you in a room on the ground floor, away from all the guest rooms. It’s used by our staff if they have to stay over, but they can stay in the staff flat with my sister if need be. This way you’ll be nearer to us.” She opened the door to a comfortable room with bright yellow walls and an ensuite bathroom. “I’ve put another heater in here in case you get cold,” she said. “Remember, we’re just across the yard if you need anything. I’ll be in the kitchen here tomorrow morning making breakfasts for the guests - we have a few people staying here at the moment. You can have your breakfast here or with Sidney, as you like. And then later you’ll meet your cousins who always come to us for Sunday lunch.” Charlotte smiled at her and then left. 

Coralie sat on the big comfortable bed and felt both content and a little dazed at the turn her life had taken ever since - was it only a week ago? - Sidney had replied to her letter. She wondered what her mother would say if she could see her now.

When Charlotte returned to their little converted barn, Sidney said, “Everything ok?”

“I think so. And you, how are you doing?”

“Good. Thank you for being so lovely with her.”

“I like her. And the two of you seem to be getting on well.”

“I like her too. When she’s not being angry with me, she’s good company.”

“When we were her age, I could have said the same about you too,” said Charlotte, grinning at him. Then she said, “Maybe we should have had another bedroom built here. It seems a bit mean to make her sleep over there.”

“Oh no, this little house is just for you and me to be private in,” he said, wrapping his arms around her. “We are still newly-weds after all.”

“So we are,” she said and raised her face to be kissed.


	5. Eavesdropping

An intimation of the trouble to come, arrived the following morning. Charlotte was in the B&B kitchen, cooking breakfasts for the guests, when Coralie came in.

“Good morning. Did you sleep well?” said Charlotte brightly.

“Yes, thank you.” Coralie paused and then said, “An old woman just asked me to empty her bin. She seemed a bit put out when I said I was staying here.”

“No!” Charlotte rocked back in shock. “Oh Coralie, I am so sorry that happened to you and here, of all places.”

Marjorie, who was employed to serve breakfasts and help with the cleaning, then came in with some dirty plates. She did a double take when she saw Coralie. Charlotte was just about to introduce them when Coralie said, “I think I’ll go have breakfast with Sidney” and quickly went out into the yard.

After the breakfast service was over and the kitchen had been cleaned, Charlotte and Marjorie started on the bedrooms. Alison, as usual, was in London with Crowe. Charlotte was not concentrating on Marjorie’s chatter. She was still thinking about Coralie being mistaken for the help. But then she caught the words “... It must be a stranger in the village.”

“What must be? Sorry, Marjorie, I’ve been miles away.”

“Thinking about that handsome husband of yours, I’m sure,” the woman smirked.

“I wasn’t actually,” said Charlotte, irritated.

“I was just saying,” said Marjorie. “That there’s been a lot of thefts in the village overnight.”

“Really? That’s unusual.”

“That’s what I was saying. It must be someone coming from outside.”

“What’s been taken?”

Before Marjorie could reply, one of their regular guests, Mrs Stirling, came out of her room and accosted Charlotte. “That coloured girl, is she really staying here?”

“The young black woman I believe you are referring to, is a member of our family and is staying here as our guest,” said Charlotte.

“So she doesn’t work here?”

“No.”

“Humph.” said Mrs Stirling and went back into her room.

It was only later when Charlotte was finishing preparations for Sunday lunch, that she realised that Marjorie’s comments about crime in the village were aimed at Coralie. She was shocked and ashamed that she hadn’t said anything at the time. But then Marjorie hadn’t come right out and accused Coralie, so what could she have said? It was just poisonous innuendo. Flustered, Charlotte started putting the filled roasting pans in the oven.

Sidney and Coralie arrived across the yard, both glowing from the crisp winter air.

“We’ve just had a great long walk along the stream and across the fields,” said Sidney. 

“How lovely!” said Charlotte, pleased to have her troubling thoughts interrupted. “What do you think of our countryside, Coralie? It must be very different to what you’re used to.”

“It’s very… subtle. Everything in Antigua is big bright colours. Here it’s all brown and white and black. And the sun’s really bright but there’s no heat.”

Charlotte laughed. “That’s an English winter for you. But once spring comes, it will all turn bright green and there will be lovely splashes of colour.

“Is there anything we can do to help with lunch?” asked Sidney.

“Nope. You timed that perfectly, it’s all in the oven.” Charlotte said smiling at them both. They sat and chatted while they waited for the others to arrive. Jenny arrived first but before coming in, stood and watched them through the window, frowning slightly. She was still standing there when Henry and Alicia arrived.

“Why are you out here?” asked Alicia

“Look at them,” said Jenny. “A proper little family.”

Alicia peered through the window. “They do look very comfortable.”

“Oh for goodness sake!” said Henry and rapped on the window, waving cheerily when the three inside looked up.

Henry and his sisters went inside and hung up their coats before entering the kitchen. “Coralie, these are your cousins, Henry, Alicia and Jenny.”

They all said hello, but Charlotte noted that the greetings were made with different levels of enthusiasm. Jenny seemed the most withdrawn, barely muttering. Alicia’s hello was more forthcoming, but she still looked reserved. Henry, however, greeted her warmly and was soon chatting away to his new cousin. 

“Lunch smells delicious as always,” said Jenny loudly, putting a possessive arm around Charlotte and kissing her cheek.   
Charlotte looked at her, surprised. Jenny wasn’t usually this tactile with her. Standing there with her insistent fingers digging into Charlotte’s side, Jenny continued loudly, “What wine are we drinking today, Sid?” 

Henry said to Coralie, “We’re trying out different local wines. Charlotte’s planning to grow grapes here so she can make her own wine.”

“And _we’re_ going to help her,” said Jenny. 

“You can help too,” said Henry, earning a frown from his sister. “We plant the vines next spring, isn’t that right, Charlotte?”

“It is and yes, Coralie, you’re very welcome to join in.”

“I will if I’m here, but I have to go home by the end of April.”

They all looked at her in surprise. “Why? Is there something you need to be back for?” asked Henry.

“Not particularly. I’m only allowed to be here for six months.”

“But isn’t Antigua part of the Commonwealth?” said Henry looking confused.

Coralie snorted. “That doesn’t mean anything! Your country owned ours, made us speak your language, learn your history, read your books and work for you. In return we can come here for six months as long as we don't work and can prove we have enough money to support ourselves. You should have heard the grilling I got at passport control. They made me feel like a criminal just for wanting to come here.”

“But that’s terrible,” said Henry. “I had no idea.”

Alicia looked thoughtful, as if coming to a decision. “Then we will have to make sure you have as good a time as you can, before you have to go.” She was rewarded with a surprised, pleased look from her new cousin.

Lunch was spent with Henry and Alicia quizzing Coralie on what she liked to do, so they could plan some nights out and places they could take her. Henry was keen for her to come see him when he next performed with his ska band. Alicia laughed at Coralie’s look of surprise. “He’s pretty good, actually. He plays the trumpet.” 

Jenny, however, was noticeably quiet and when her siblings left after lunch, she went with them. Once outside, she accosted them. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“What do you mean?” said Henry.

“Oh you, you always let people walk all over you. But Alicia, I thought you could see what was going on.”

“I’m being nice,” said Alicia. “Uncle Sid told us to be nice and that’s what I’m doing. Poor girl, I feel sorry for her.”

“Poor girl? She’s trying to take Sid away from us! Why can’t you see that?!”

“Oh don’t be ridiculous, Jenny,” said Henry.

“She’s his real child, not us. He’s going to put her before us and so’s Charlotte.”

Henry and Alicia rolled their eyes at each other and walked off. Jenny called after them with tears in her eyes, “Just you wait, I’ll be proved right and then you’ll be sorry.” 

The next morning, as Charlotte was saying good-bye to the last of their weekend guests, she saw Coralie heading towards her room. 

“Good morning, how are you today?” she said.

“Well, thank you. Sidney has work to do, so I thought I’d get my book and read for a bit.”

“Ok, or you can come talk to me while I clean the rooms.”

“Oh.” Coralie’s eyes suddenly filled with tears, “That’s what mama used to say to me.”

Charlotte looked at her, compassion softening her big brown eyes. “You must miss her terribly.”

“I do,” sniffed Coralie. “Sometimes I think I’m fine, and then a little thing will just come and knock me and I feel like my heart will break all over again.”

“I remember that feeling all too well.”

Coralie looked at her in surprise. “Did your mama die too?”

“Both my parents.”

“Do you still miss them?”

“Yes. I still have conversations with them in my head.”

“Me too. Mama’s always chattering to me!”

“And what does she think about you being here?”

“She won’t tell me.” 

“Ah.”

They looked at each other for a moment. Then Charlotte said, “So will you come keep me company upstairs? Marjorie’s got a dentist’s appointment and my sister won’t be back till this afternoon.”

Charlotte collected a pile of bedding and they both headed upstairs and went into the first bedroom on the landing. “I’m sorry we didn’t realise you couldn’t stay in this country very long,” said Charlotte as she stripped the bed. “Would you like to stay in Britain longer or are you looking forward to going back?”

Coralie wandered over to the window and looked out. “I don’t know. I like it here but it’s not home. It’s cold and a bit colourless. But... Antigua’s so small and poor and our government’s corrupt.” Coralie paused and then said, “It was home when mama was there, but now I keep thinking that none of us should really be there at all. We’re only there because the British brought us there from Africa as slaves. So it’s not really home either. But if I went back to Africa and found out where my ancestors were from, that wouldn’t be home because it would be so completely unfamiliar. So actually I don’t know where I belong or what I should call home.”

Charlotte stopped what she was doing and sat down on the bed, looking at her thoughtfully. “That is really very sad, Coralie,” she said. “I take my idea of home for granted. Because it’s right here. This house, this land, this village is where my family have lived for centuries. It makes me feel rooted. But I understand now that that is a rare luxury.”

“I think it is,” said Coralie. 

“But you know, home isn’t just a geographical place, it’s also where the people you love are. And your dad’s in Antigua and you love him?”

“I do.”

Charlotte smiled at this young woman of whom she was becoming increasingly fond. “I know you’ve just met us but I hope you will think of us as home too.” She was rewarded with a surprised pleased smile. 

Charlotte took a sheet from the pile and shook it. Coralie came and stood on the other side of the bed, took the edge of the sheet and started tucking it in.

“You don’t need to do that,” said Charlotte. “It’s not your job.”

“I can’t just watch you work. And you’ll get it done quicker if I help. I am a fully qualified bed maker, after all.”

“Of course you are. I’d forgotten. You work in a hotel too. Isn’t that strange that we do the same job.”

“But you work for yourself and I work for people I’ve never even met,” said Coralie.

“True. What do you want to do really? You said you’d planned to go to university when your mother fell ill.”

“I was but now I don’t know what I want to do with my life.”

“You’re very young still, Coralie. You have all the time in the world to decide.”

They continued, making beds and chatting, so engrossed in their conversation that they didn’t hear the back door open and Jenny come up the stairs. She had decided to come over and talk to Charlotte about the danger Coralie posed to them all. She felt sure that Charlotte wouldn’t want Sidney to rearrange his priorities, so that she and his nieces and nephew always came second best after his own flesh and blood daughter. She could hear Charlotte and Coralie talking upstairs and paused at the top so she could hear what they were saying.

“If you’re sure you don’t mind, you could just pop those pillow cases on while I tuck the blanket in,” Charlotte said.

Jenny heard the sounds of bed linen being pulled on. Then: “What did you think of your cousins yesterday?”

“Henry’s nice, isn’t he? And Alicia. I don’t think Jenny likes me though.”

“She’s very possessive of Sidney, but she’ll come round. They planned you a nice long list of activities, didn’t they?”

“They did. To be honest though, I’m happy just hanging out with you and Sidney.”

Jenny couldn’t hear anything for a moment and then Charlotte said: “Oh you are the spit of Sidney when you smile like that!”

Jenny crept back down the stairs fuming. That girl had completely bewitched Charlotte. Jenny knew now that she was going to have to take matters into her own hands.


	6. Nightmare

Early the following morning, Charlotte was letting herself into the B&B kitchen, when she heard someone banging on the front door. A loud voice from outside shouted, “Immigration, open up!” With a stab of fear, she opened the door to find four police officers standing outside. “We have a warrant to arrest a Coralie Browne who is working here illegally,” said the one nearest the door.

“What are you talking about?” said Charlotte. “Coralie’s my step-daughter, she’s staying here, not working.”

Coralie, woken by the noise, came out of her bedroom in her pyjamas. On seeing her, a policeman approached and grabbed her arm, “Coralie Browne, I’m arresting you for…” but he couldn’t finish what he was saying because Charlotte seized hold of his other arm and tried to pull him away. “Leave her alone! She’s done nothing wrong!” One of the other policemen then grabbed Charlotte and shouted, “Let go or I will have to arrest you too!”

“Charlotte!” cried Coralie looking panicked and trying to pull her arm out of the policeman’s grasp. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know!” said Charlotte, looking equally frightened.

“Now just calm down,” said the first policeman. “It’ll be easier all round if you just come with us without all this fuss.”

Alison ran down the stairs, “Charlotte? What’s happening?”

“Can you go tell Sidney to come here, now.” Alison frowned but then complied. 

Charlotte turned round and saw the policeman taking his handcuffs out. “At least let her get dressed first!” cried Charlotte. 

The officer nodded at a policewoman to go with Coralie. Charlotte tried to follow but the woman stopped her from entering the bedroom. Through the open door, she was able to see Coralie pull on a pair of jeans and a warm sweater before picking up her phone. The policewoman immediately took the phone off her. “I’ll take that. You’ll be able to make a call once you get to the centre.”

The woman then turned Coralie around and snapped a pair of handcuffs on her. “Why are you doing that? You’re treating her like a criminal,” shouted Charlotte.

The policeman pulled her away as Coralie and the policewoman came out of the bedroom. “You need to calm down, madam. Otherwise I will arrest you.”

Sidney, still in his dressing gown, came running through the house, followed by Alison, just in time to see Coralie, surrounded by police, being marched over to a white van. 

“Where are you taking her?” cried Charlotte.

“She will be taken to a detention centre, but I am not at liberty to disclose which one.”

Coralie looked round at them with one last look of panic before being bundled into the van.

“Don’t worry, Coralie!” cried Charlotte. “We’ll sort this all out. It’s just a misunderstanding…” But the van doors had been slammed shut and Charlotte wasn’t sure Coralie had heard her. 

Charlotte turned to Sidney and saw the muscle twitch in his cheek which always denoted anger. He said, “What the fuck just happened?”

“I’ll explain later. I need to get the car and follow them! I can’t just let her be taken like that.”

She looked wildly at him. He put a gentle but restraining hand on her arm and said, “No, Charlotte. Tell me what happened and we’ll sort it out.” He looked at Alison and said “Can you take care of breakfast?” 

“Of course,” she said, frowning, and went back inside. As they walked round the side of the house Charlotte told Sidney what had happened.

“I don’t understand why they think Coralie was working,” said Charlotte. “She helped me make a couple of beds yesterday but   
that’s hardly illegal, is it? And there was no one around to see us anyway. ”

They let themselves into their little house and Charlotte continued, “Marjorie was strange though, kept wittering on about crime after she saw Coralie, And Mrs Stirling thought Coralie was working here. Would they really go to Immigration about her? Are we going to have to suspect everyone?”

“I don’t know,” said Sidney sadly, shaking his head. “Let me get dressed and then I’m going to find us a lawyer and phone Winston and Gloria. That’s not a call I relish making.”

\-----------------------

Alone in the back of the van, Coralie was torn between shouting with rage at the situation and sobbing from fear. Her wrists and arms felt sore, handcuffed behind her back. After about twenty minutes, the van stopped. A while later, the doors opened and two Asian men were pushed in. The two men looked petrified. Another drive, another stop and a Chinese woman was manhandled into the van. One more stop and this time it was an African man who joined them. 

“Bastards!” the man shouted. “Bloody bastards!”

He was the first of them to speak and emboldened by his anger, Coralie ventured a question, “What’s going on?”

“It’s an immigration raid,” said the man. “They’re picking up everyone they think is working illegally.”

“But I’m not.”

“Doesn’t matter. All they need is for someone to tell them you are and they can pick you up. There’s this phone number you can ring. You don’t have to give your name, you just pick up the phone, say so-and-so is working illegally and that’s it.”

“Where are they going to take us?”

“To some detention centre I expect.”

The Chinese woman started to cry.

The van stopped again. This time the policewoman opened the doors and told Coralie and the Chinese woman to get out. “Good luck,” said the African man as Coralie squeezed past him. The van drove away leaving the two women in the custody of four uniformed guards. They stood with the arresting policewoman in front of a two storey concrete building. A large sign told them they had arrived at Beechwood House, a detention facility for women. They were marched into the building where they finally had their handcuffs removed and were told to sit on a bench by the reception desk.

Coralie looked at the Chinese woman whose tears had turned into occasional sniffs. She said, “I’m Coralie.” The woman looked at her sadly and replied, “I’m May. I don’t… English not good.”

Coralie, not knowing what else to do, reached over and squeezed the woman’s hand. Eventually, Coralie was called up to the desk and asked to confirm her name and to sign a form to acknowledge the confiscation of her phone. She was given a basic phone in return and then told to follow one of the guards. Looking back, she gave May what she hoped was an encouraging smile. The guard took her through a locked door and then down a long corridor lined with doors. The air had the sour smell of cabbage and bleach. They stopped and the guard unlocked one of the doors, beckoning Coralie inside. There was a single bed, a small desk, a plastic chair and a metal toilet. 

“You can stay here or go to the common room,” said the guard. 

“How long am I here for?”

The guard shrugged. “You’ll be called soon for questioning.”

Alone, Coralie sank onto the bed, noting the thin mattress underneath. Her mother’s voice suddenly came to her. “Foolish girl! Thinking you could trust white people.” Coralie was suddenly furious with herself. She had let herself be seduced by Sidney, thinking that she could just slip into a white person’s family. She snorted when she thought how she had considered herself half-white. She was pretty sure that there were no white people locked up here. The image of Charlotte’s anguished face slid into her mind and she felt a stab of… what? Affection? No! She couldn’t rely on them anymore. She needed to phone her uncle and tell him where she was. She reached for the phone and then remembered all her numbers were in her real phone, locked away in reception. She groaned with frustration. Could she remember any phone numbers? No. But then a memory came, of her auntie laughing at the landline number they had. Strangely it was a mixture of the code for Antigua and the emergency number. She tapped in the area code and then 268 9991, keeping her fingers crossed that she had remembered correctly. A mechanical voice announced that she had reached an answerphone. Of course, they would be at work. Would Sidney have even told them what had happened? She left a message saying where she was and that she would ring later. She decided to find the common room. Leaving her room she saw a sign with arrows pointing to the right. Following them she found herself in a long room. A television was on in one corner with a few women watching, sitting on plastic chairs. There were a couple of tables where other women sat playing cards. Coralie looked for May, but she wasn’t there. She noted that she had been right, there were no white women in the room except for two guards, who stood at one end, chatting. Coralie wandered over to a small bookcase and was reading through the titles when the tannoy spluttered into life and she heard: “Can Coralie Browne please report to the supervisor’s office.” 

Coralie asked one of the women playing cards where to go and they pointed to the far end of the room. A severe looking white woman with very short blond hair looked up as she came in, and gestured to the seat on the other side of her desk. Coralie sat down and the woman stared at her. “We have information that you have been working illegally at the Oak Tree Bed and Breakfast in Willingden.”

“I wasn’t working there, I was staying there,” said Coralie.

“Our witness saw you making beds.”

“What witness?”

“I’m not at liberty to say. Do you deny making beds?”

“Ok, I helped my step-mother make a couple of beds but that doesn’t mean I was working there.” 

“Yet we understand that you were staying in the staff bedroom.”

“Yes, because I wasn’t a paying guest. It’s my step-mother’s business. I was staying with her and my father but they don’t have a spare room so they put me there.”

“You say you were staying with your father and step-mother?”

“Yes!” 

“Can you prove that?”

“They’ll tell you.”

“We need to see your birth certificate.”

“But my father’s not on my birth certificate…”

“Oh?”

“I only found him recently. I thought my step-father was my real father but then before mama died she told me the truth. That’s why I’m even in this country. I came to find my real father.”

The woman looked at her doubtfully. It was very clear she didn’t believe a word Coralie had just said. “We need to see your birth certificate,” she repeated.

“But I’ve just told you, he won’t be on it!” Coralie’s voice rose in frustration.

“Please keep your temper, Miss Browne, or I will be forced to call in one of my guards.”

“I haven’t got my birth certificate! My father has it in Antigua.”

“Which father?” The woman gave her a malicious smile and Coralie felt like slapping her. “Get me your birth certificate, Miss Browne, and then we will talk further.”

Coralie went back to her room and tried the phone number again. This time, her auntie picked up. “Oh Coralie, thank god! Are you alright? I came home at lunchtime just in case you had phoned here.”

“They took my phone away. This is the only number I could remember. Auntie, they want to see my birth certificate. I've explained Sidney won’t be on it but they’re not listening. They think I was working not visiting family. I have to prove I’m telling the truth but I don’t know how!” Coralie burst into tears. 

“Darling, we’re going to get you out of there. Sidney’s hired a solicitor…”

“Sidney, pfft! I should never have gone looking for him. I wouldn’t be in this nightmare if it wasn’t for him.”

“Sidney is in pieces over what’s happened to you. There are visiting hours tomorrow and we are all coming to see you, me and your uncle, Sidney and Charlotte.”

“I don’t want to see them…”

“We are all coming to see you,” repeated her aunt firmly. “You just hold on, girl.”

\--------------------

Sidney came off the phone after talking first to Gloria and then to the solicitor, and came and sat down next to Charlotte.   
“Gloria is going to get Coralie’s birth certificate scanned over from Antigua and the solicitor is going to ask for a DNA test to be done. She warns that they won’t authorise that until they’ve seen the existing birth certificate.”

“And until all this is sorted, Coralie has to stay in that dreadful place?”

“I’m afraid so.”

They looked bleakly at each other. “I feel so guilty, Sidney.”

“Why should you feel guilty,” he said, taking her hand in his.

“I suggested she should visit us. I should have thought, this place is so white, of course there’d be people here who couldn't cope with a black woman staying here. And then I put her in the staff bedroom, but only because I wanted her close to us and then I let her help me make beds. I should have said no…”

“No, I won’t have you torture yourself like this. All this is my fault, if I’d thought with my head rather than my dick twenty years ago, none of this would have happened.”

“But then we wouldn’t have Coralie! You don’t wish she hadn’t been born do you?”

“No. No, of course not.” He looked at her in despair, “I just feel so useless. I want to go and shout at someone or better still, punch them.”

“Only after I’ve got there first,” said Charlotte.

A smile twitched at the edge of Sidney’s lips. “I can just imagine that.”

“I once punched a policeman on a demo.”

“I bet you did.”

“Don’t think that would help now though.”

“Probably not.”

“Be satisfying though.”

“Wouldn’t it just.”

“You know what? Maybe that’s what we need, not a demo exactly, more a display of outrage and support, outside Beechwood House. To draw attention to what’s happening there. What do you think?”

“Let’s talk to Winston and Gloria when we see them tomorrow. See if they think it’s a good idea. And I’ll talk to the solicitor about it,” said Sidney.

“Good. We need something to _do_ , something that tells Coralie she’s not alone.”


	7. Sweet Coralie

Coralie did not sleep well that night. The walls were thin and she could hear women crying and shouting, the slamming of doors, the rattling of keys. She had never felt so alone, lying in that narrow uncomfortable bed. She missed her mother desperately and couldn’t stop herself from sobbing into her thin hard pillow.

During the morning, the tannoy summoned her once again to the supervisor’s office. She sat down again on the same chair and faced the same unsmiling woman. “We have received your birth certificate. It states that your father is one Charles Browne of English Harbour, Antigua.”

Coralie took a deep breath to try and control her anger. “I have already explained that he is my step-father and I only discovered my real father this year.”

“But you have no proof.”

“How am I supposed to prove something like that?”

The phone on the desk rang and the woman picked it up. After a few curt replies, she hung up and glared at Coralie. “It seems you have a solicitor. She is in one of the interview rooms, waiting for you.”

A guard outside the door escorted her to the room. Inside, a tall slim woman with an afro and a bright chunky necklace stood up and shook her hand. “I’m Jada Clarke. Sidney Parker hired me. Are you happy for me to represent you?”

Coralie gazed in surprise at this elegant, professional black woman. “Yes… yes, of course.”

“Good,” she replied briskly. “Sit down and I’ll fill you in.”

Coralie sat down, feeling a tiny bit more hopeful than she had been up to now.

“Ok. The penalty for working illegally in this country is six months in prison.” Coralie opened her mouth to speak, but Jada continued, “Yes, I know you weren’t working, illegally or otherwise. However, we are operating in what the government has deemed a hostile environment for immigrants. This means the Home Office can be overzealous, arresting people like you when they receive a tip-off you are doing something illegal. Then it’s up to the accused to prove their innocence. Luckily you have me to help you do that, most of the poor sods in here can’t afford a lawyer. Ok, we now have to prove that Sidney Parker is your father. So we’re going to do a paternity test. I have already taken a swab from him and if you allow me, I shall take one from you.” She looked at Coralie who nodded. “Unfortunately we won’t have the results until after the weekend.”

“But it’s only Wednesday! I have to stay here till then?”

“I’m afraid so. Let’s get this swab done. The quicker I can get it to the lab, the quicker we can get you out of here.” She went to the door and called in one of the guards to act as a witness. Then she opened her briefcase and took out a plastic tube from which she extracted a stick with a cotton wool tip. “Open wide,” she said and Coralie opened her mouth. Jada swabbed the inside of her cheeks and screwed the stick back into its plastic cover. She then shook Coralie’s hand and said “Chin up. I’ll be in touch.” 

Coralie wandered back to the common room feeling a bit dazed. She had begun to feel hopeful, but then to hear that she was going to have to stay in this - well, what was it, if not a prison - for at least another five days… She heard her name and saw Joyce and Cynthia, a couple of Ghanaian women she had met briefly the previous day, waving at her. She went and joined them at their table. “We heard your name called,” said Joyce. “Good news or bad news?”

Coralie told them what had happened. 

“Good news then,” said Cynthia firmly. “Hey, you’re a lucky girl to have a solicitor. They are rare as hens’ teeth around here.”

“Really, why?”

The woman rubbed her fingers together in the universal sign meaning ‘money’.

“Money isn’t going to get me out of here for days though,” said Coralie.

“I’ve been here three weeks, Cynthia’s been here two months. Days are nothing.”

Coralie stared at them in shock. “This is a nightmare!” 

“Tell me about it, girl. This rich rich country doesn’t like us poor black ladies.”

Coralie spotted a familiar face arrive in the room. “May!” she called and beckoned the Chinese woman over. Coralie introduced her to the others, explaining how they had met in the immigration van. 

“How are you May?” asked Coralie kindly.

May shook her head sadly. Coralie lent over and squeezed her hand. “May’s English isn’t very good,” she said to the two women who were looking at her expectantly. 

“Let’s play cards then,” said Joyce and produced a pack. She showed them to May whose face broke into a big bright smile. The four women played cards until the tannoy called May to the supervisor’s office. She froze and stared at the others, terrified. The tannoy called her name again and this time she rose slowly from her seat. A guard came over and said, “Come on, no dawdling.” She took May’s arm and started to pull her. 

Coralie stood up and shouted, “Stop that, you’re hurting her!” Emboldened by Coralie’s words, other women in the room got to their feet and started shouting too. More guards came running in to quell the disturbance and a siren started to wail. 

A guard seized Coralie roughly by the arm, saying, “Back to your room.” Coralie tried to struggle but the guard’s grip just got tighter. “You coloured girls, you’re always trouble,” the guard hissed. 

\----------------------

That afternoon, Sidney and Charlotte drove over to Pockton train station to collect Gloria and Winston so they could all go together to see Coralie during visiting hours. It was four very sombre people who shook hands. 

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am that I am meeting you for the first time in these circumstances,” said Charlotte.

“Oh darling, this isn’t your fault,” said Gloria shaking her head sadly.

Getting out of the car outside Beechwood House, they looked at each other, appalled. “It’s a prison,” said Sidney softly. They were asked to show some ID before being allowed into a visitors’ room dotted with tables and chairs. They sat down at a table and waited for Coralie to appear. When she did, they were all struck by the dark circles under her eyes and the tightness of her lips. Gloria immediately drew her into a big hug, then Winston pulled her to him and kissed the top of her head. Before Sidney or Charlotte could do likewise, Coralie sat down on one of the chairs. 

“How are you doing?” said Sidney gently.

“How do you think?” she snapped back. 

“Coralie, be nice,” said Winston.

“Why should I? I was with him two paltry days and then this happened. Mama told me not to trust white people and she was right.”

“This isn’t Sidney’s fault,” cried Gloria. “He’s doing all he can to get you out. You’ve seen the solicitor he’s hired?”

“Good for him having enough money to pay lawyers. The poor women in here - and I can tell you there are no white women prisoners here - can’t afford a lawyer. They are just stuck in this nightmare. This woman, May, I met her in the van, she’s just been sent to another place to be deported. We’re not human beings anymore, just animals to be herded around.” She turned to Sidney and said, “You know what? I hope that DNA test shows we’re not related. I hope it shows papa really is my father. I don’t want anything more to do with this country!” And with that, she got up and walked out. 

“Sidney, I have to apologise for…” Winston began but Sidney placed his hand on his arm to stop him, saying, “You have nothing to apologise for. She has every right to be angry.”

“Come on, let’s get out of this place,” said Charlotte. 

They retreated to the cafe outside Pockton station, where Sidney had sat two weeks earlier waiting for Coralie to contact him. The same sad Christmas tree was still there, but now it was decorated with a string of flashing lights, half of which were broken.  
As they nursed their cups of tea, Charlotte said, “Winston, Gloria, can I suggest something? I feel really strongly that we need to do something to show Coralie that she is loved by people here. What would you say to a demonstration of sorts, outside that dreadful place. If we could gather enough people and together we could shout, make some noise, maybe she would hear us. It might make her feel less alone, less like she had been abandoned.”

Winston and Gloria looked at each other thoughtfully.

Sidney added, “Jada, the solicitor said the authorities hope they can remove people from the country without any scrutiny. So drawing attention to a case often helps.”

“The people at our social club are keen to do something,” said Winston.

“So are our nieces and nephew,” said Charlotte.

Filled with more hope and energy now they had something positive to focus on, the four of them discussed what they needed to do, fixing on Saturday afternoon as the time for their protest.

\----------------

Gloria and Winston could not take any more time off work to visit Coralie on the Thursday or Friday. Sidney continued to visit Beechwood House in their absence but Coralie refused to see him. On the Friday he returned home, shaking his head to Charlotte’s questioning look and sitting down heavily next to her. “Do you think Coralie and I will ever be able to get back to where we were before this happened?” he said.

“Honestly? I don’t know. All we can do is try and show her what she means to us. She’s not really angry at you, you know. You’re just the most convenient focus.”

“I am the White Man.”

“Yes, you are. But she’ll learn that even though lots of your breed are the enemy, you, Sidney Parker, are not.”

“I hope so.” He attempted a smile, but failed.

“Let me try and distract you with some news about tomorrow,” she said.

“Yes, please.”

“Alison is coming with us - she asked Marjorie to hold the fort while we’re all out. Oh and funny thing - those thefts she was going on about? Seems it was a fox.”

Sidney’s eyebrows shot up.

“It’s been taking old shoes and tennis balls from people’s gardens. It was caught red-handed or red-pawed last night. So why on earth Marjorie thought… Anyway, Janey’s coming with some uni friends. Alicia’s bringing people from work and Henry’s bringing his ska band. And I have to say Jenny’s been amazing. I thought she didn’t like Coralie much, but she phoned earlier and seems absolutely devastated by what’s happened. She’s got the whole cast and crew from her play coming on Saturday. And I’ve heard from Gloria, their daughters are both coming with friends. And the West Indian social club they’re all members of are hiring a coach to come down.”

Sidney leaned forward and kissed his wife. “You are amazing, Charlotte Heywood.”

“No, I’m not. I haven’t done anything, it’s everyone else who’s pitching in.”

“But they wouldn’t be if you hadn’t had the idea to start with. I’m so glad I married a political activist. I knew those skills would come in useful one day.”

“Did you now?” she said archly.

“Oh yes,” he said and kissed her again.

\-----------------------------

Saturday afternoon saw increasing numbers of people gather in front of the gates at Beechwood House. Sidney and Charlotte looked at each other in wonder as yet another car pulled up and disgorged its occupants. A coach arrived and Gloria and Winston stepped out, followed by a large contingent of their friends. Winston showed Charlotte a megaphone he had brought. “Thought this might come in useful,” he said grinning at her.

“Good thinking,” she said. She looked around and saw groups of people standing and chatting. “We need to organise this, create some noise so that Coralie and the other people inside can hear us.”

Winston handed her the megaphone. “Off you go, girl.”

Charlotte looked at the megaphone and felt the years drop away. She was back to being the protestor she had once been. She took the megaphone and grinned at Winston. Making her way to the gates, she put the megaphone to her lips and began: “Welcome! Thank you all for coming. We, Coralie’s family, are so grateful to have you all here. Now you all know she’s been locked up because some anonymous coward decided to snitch on her. She has done nothing, broken no law, and yet she has been locked up in this prison. We want to show her today that people in this country are good people, that we welcome her and all the other women locked up with her. So we need to make some noise so they can hear us back there. Are you ready?”

There was a roar of agreement.

“I didn’t hear you! Are - you - ready?”

The roar doubled in size. 

“Good! Now we need some chants. Let’s start with ‘Coralie, Coralie, Coralie, out, out, out.” There was laughter and then the chant was taken up.

Inside Beechwood House, Coralie was playing cards with Joyce and Cynthia when a Jamaican woman came running over.   
“There’s some kind of protest happening outside.”

“How do you know?” asked Coralie

“I was near the reception desk and could hear some kind of chanting. And all the guards were rushing outside.”

They looked around and realised that the usual guards on duty were nowhere to be seen. The women stood up and hurried down the corridor towards reception.

The chant had turned to “No justice, no peace”, when a minibus arrived spilling out Henry and his other band members and their instruments. “So sorry we’re late,” Henry said to anyone who was listening. “The bloody van broke down.”

They started unpacking their instruments and soon were accompanying the chants with an array of notes on the trumpet and saxophone, cymbals and drums. 

The next chant was “Education not deportation” and Charlotte was still going strong on the megaphone, even if her voice was beginning to grow hoarse. She felt a tap on her arm and saw Jenny, so she stopped and Jenny said, “What do you think to us singing ‘Sweet Caroline’ but doing it as ‘Sweet Coralie’?”

“That’s genius! Go and ask Henry if they can play that.”

Charlotte watched Jenny weave her way through the crowd and speak to Henry. She saw him nod and so lifted the megaphone once again and said, “Time for some singing. My clever niece, Jenny, has just suggested we sing ‘Sweet Coralie’ to the tune of ‘Sweet Caroline.’” There was laughter and then Henry led them all on his trumpet.

Back inside, a mass of women were now standing at the reception desk. There were no windows facing out but they could hear the crowd. 

“There’s a band out there,” said Cynthia excitedly.

“Listen, what’s that they’re singing?” said Joyce. “It sounds like ‘Sweet Caroline’ but it’s not quite right.”

“They’re singing “Sweet Coralie”!” cried Cynthia.

“No. Are they?” said Coralie.

“Yes! Listen.”

And there it was, the sound of a hundred people singing ‘Sweet Coralie, whoa-oh-oh, good times never seemed so good, I've been inclined, whoa-oh-oh, to believe they never would, oh no no…”

Coralie’s face glowed in wonder. How could it be? Was this all for her? But how? She hadn’t spoken to any of her family since she had walked out of the visiting room on Wednesday. If it was their doing then maybe she wasn’t all alone after all.


	8. A Finite Amount of Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your supportive, thoughtful, engaged and engaging comments. I appreciate every single one of them.  
> I'm currently writing the next story in this series. When I finish it, if it's ok, I'll post it here.

The following day Henry, Alicia and Jenny came as usual for Sunday lunch.

“Wasn’t yesterday fantastic!” said Jenny. 

“You were amazing Charlotte!” said Alicia.

“You rocked!” agreed Henry.

Charlotte looked at them all, surprised at the attention. “It’s what I used to do when I first met your uncle.”

“Really? You’ve never told us that before,” said Jenny.

“Well, it was a long time ago. Anyway, the important thing is that Coralie heard us.”

“Did she?” said Henry, excited. “How do you know?”

“Gloria phoned last night,” said Sidney. “All the women heard, they were really chuffed.”

“That is so good,” said Alicia. “Any word when she’ll be coming back here?”

“She won’t,” said Sidney sadly. “She told Gloria that if and when she’s released, she wants to go back to theirs. She said she doesn’t feel safe here.”

The three young people looked at him, shocked. “Doesn’t feel safe…” echoed Henry. “But that’s… terrible!”

“I can understand that,” said Alicia slowly. “Someone here made an anonymous call about her. If she was here, she’d be constantly wondering who despised her enough to do that. I’d like to know who they were too. I mean, how could anyone do such a thing? It’s just… despicable!”

“I agree,” said Charlotte. “I’m constantly looking at people, wondering if it was them. It doesn’t make for a comfortable atmosphere.”

After lunch, as they were going, Sidney said coldly, “Jenny, can you stay? I want to talk to you.” Henry and Alicia looked at Jenny, eyebrows raised. 

“Uh oh,” said Alicia. “What have you been up to? I haven’t heard Uncle Sid use that tone of voice since one of us did something really naughty.”

Jenny gave a nervous giggle, “Oh it’s nothing, I’m sure.”

“Are you staying here, Charlotte?” asked Sidney. 

“Yes, I’ve got some work to do in the office,” she replied looking at him curiously. “Why?”

“Jenny and I have something to discuss in private, so we’ll go across the yard.”

“Ok,” she said with an expression that asked what was going on. He gave a little shake of his head in response and then he and Jenny left.

Back in the little house, Sidney rounded on Jenny and said, “Why did you do it?”

Jenny wandered away from him and lent against the kitchen counter. “Why did I do what?” 

“Don’t do that, Jenny. Don’t play the innocent.” The muscle in his cheek twitched. Jenny grew scared. She hadn’t seen her uncle this angry for a long time.

“How did you know?” she said in a small voice.

“Because I know you. Throwing yourself into the protest yesterday, going silent whenever anyone talks about the snitch.”

“I didn’t think it would get so out of hand…”

“Why didn’t you? What did you think would happen when you phoned that number? Did you really think someone would come round for a polite chat and that would be it? And if you did, why bother in the first place?”

“Yes, alright! I wanted her gone. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but then the reality was horrific and I didn’t know how to make it better.”

“I knew you weren’t happy when you found out I had a daughter, but I thought once you met her you’d see she wasn’t a threat.”

“Seeing her just made it worse! It’s so obvious she’s your real daughter and we’re just your nieces and nephew. I thought you would love her more than us and then we’d be abandoned all over again!” Tears were now streaking down her face.

Sidney’s anger was tempered by a flood of compassion.

“Did you think I was born with just a finite quantity of love? I’ve loved you since you were a tiny scrap, Jenny Penn. I’m not going to stop now.” He put his arms around her and gave her a big hug. 

“You’re not going to tell anyone, are you?” said Jenny, her face buried in his soft jumper.

“No,” he said, stroking her hair. “You are.”

She pushed herself away and looked at him, horrified. “I can’t! No, you can’t make me.”

“Until Coralie knows what really happened, she’s not coming back. Please, for my sake, tell her it was you.”

“She’s going to hate me!”

“Quite probably. But you’re going to have to do it and you’re going to have to make her understand.”

“What about Charlotte? Please don’t make me tell Charlotte. I can’t bear her hating me too.”

“If you tell Coralie, I’ll tell Charlotte.”

Jenny gave a long shuddering sigh and nodded. 

\--------------------------

On Monday afternoon, Coralie was playing cards with Joyce and Cynthia when the tannoy called her once again to the supervisor’s office. She looked nervously at them both.

“Hey girl, it’s going to be just fine,” said Cynthia.

Inside the office, the supervisor was looking even more sour than usual. “You are free to go,” she said.

“Excuse me?” Coralie said, confused.

“You can go.”

“But how? I’ve got no money.”

“Your solicitor is waiting for you outside, she’ll sort that out.”

Dazed, Coralie left the office and a guard took her straight to the reception desk. “Can’t I say good-bye to my friends first?” she asked but the guard said nothing and soon she was being given back her phone and other personal items and being sent out the front door. Outside the gate, she saw Jada, her solicitor, waving.

“What’s going on?” said Coralie.

“Your paternity test came back as a match with Sidney Parker and they decided not to proceed against you. I think the protest on Saturday also helped. They seemed quite keen to get rid of you,” Jada smiled.

“So that’s it? It’s all over?”

“It is.”

“But how do I get home?”

“I’ll take you?”

“Really? Is that part of your job?”

“Not usually, no. But Mr Parker asked if I would. He wanted to make sure you got back safely. Tottenham, isn’t it? I live in North London too, so it’s not out of my way.”

They got into Jada’s car. “I don’t suppose you were able to see the protest from inside?”

“No, but we could hear it.”

“Let me show you something then. It’s all over social media.” Jada got out her phone, scrolled through and handed it over. On the screen, Coralie saw a mass of people, both black and white, standing in the car park in which they were now sitting. As the camera panned through the crowd, she could see her aunty and uncle, their daughters, Marie and Jackie. Then there was Sidney, Jenny and Alicia, and Henry playing the trumpet next to a man on a saxophone and two women with drums and cymbals. At the front there was a woman shouting into a megaphone. Coralie looked at her in disbelief. “That’s Charlotte!”

“Who?”

“The woman on the megaphone is Charlotte, Sidney’s wife. I’d never have thought...”

Coralie handed the phone back and they set off.

“Thank you for everything you’ve done for me,” Coralie said. “I’m so grateful to be out of that place. It feels strange though, like they’re going to make me go back, say it was all a big mistake and actually they’re going to charge me after all.”

“I’m sorry to say, you’ll probably feel like that for a bit. The system’s insidious, it’s designed, I think, to make people feel unsafe, to make foreign-born people want to leave this country.”

“It’s made me want to leave. I only came here to find my real father. I’ve done that and now I don’t feel safe in his home. I can’t trust anyone there because one of them got me arrested.”

“And what will you do back in Antigua?”

“I have no idea.”

“Listen, I don’t really know what it's like over there. My parents are Jamaican but I was born here. We go back for holidays, I see my family there. But I’m always pleased my parents had me here. I mean, it’s not always great and the racism just gets me down sometimes, you know? But Jamaica’s so small and Antigua’s tiny, right? But in London you feel like you’re part of the world, there’s so many people from all over. I love it.”

“Did Sidney put you up to this? To try and get me to stay?” said Coralie suspiciously.

Jada looked at her in surprise. “No! This is just two sistas talking.”

“Oh, right,” said Coralie and gave her a small smile. “Anyway, I can’t stay, can I? I’m only allowed to stay here six months.”

“If you have an English grandparent, you can apply to work here. Or you could get a student visa and go to university here.”

“I couldn’t afford that.”

“Your father could.”

“I’m not taking his money!” said Coralie horrified.

“Why ever not? He’s your dad and he’s obviously got money - I don’t come cheap, you know.” Coralie looked at her thinking it was a joke, but Jada was serious.

“How did you become a lawyer?”

“Went to university, studied law. I hated seeing how people of colour are treated in this country and I decided the best way to help them was by representing them, legally.”

“The women I met in that place, they needed lawyers but they couldn’t afford them.”

Jada sighed. “I know. It’s a real problem. I do some voluntary work at a charity in my spare time, providing immigration  
advice, training the volunteers. I do what I can.”

“Maybe I could be a lawyer,” said Coralie thoughtfully.

“Maybe you could,” said Jada and smiled at her.

\----------------------

Two days later, there was a knock on the door in Tottenham. Coralie was lying on her bed upstairs, thinking, when her aunty called up saying she had a visitor and was sending her up. She opened the door and was surprised to see, of all people, Jenny standing there.

“What are you…”

“Can I come in?” said Jenny quietly.

Coralie returned to the bed and sat down while Jenny came in but hovered by the door. She looked very nervous. Finally she breathed deeply and said, “It was me.”

“What was you?”

“I made the phone call. I’m the snitch.” She gave Coralie a bleak look. 

Coralie stared at her in disbelief. “Why would you do something like that?”

“I don’t know, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? Is that all you can say?” Coralie yelled at her cousin. “Do you know what I’ve been through because of that phone call?”

Coralie’s shouting had drawn her aunt upstairs. “What’s going on?” said Gloria, opening the door.

“Nothing,” Coralie muttered.

“Didn’t sound like nothing.” Gloria looked at the two young women but neither said anything. “Alright then, I’ll leave you to it.” She gave them both another look and went downstairs.

“Why did you do it?” Coralie asked, her voice quieter now.

“Ok, because I was jealous of you.”

“Jealous of _me_!” Coralie was incredulous.

“You’re Sid’s real daughter. I mean you even look alike. I know you’re different colours and all, but man, when you both smile you look the same. Me and Henry and Alicia look nothing like him, we all took after our mum.”

“So it wasn’t because I’m black?”

“No! Although you being black made it surprisingly easy to get rid of you.”

“And if I’d been white?”

“I’d have found a way. It would just have been harder.”

Coralie stared at her. “I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. I am so angry with you. But I also feel sorry for you. How is that even possible?”

Jenny came and sat down on the bed next to Coralie.

“What can I do to make it up to you?” 

“First you’re going to listen to me tell you everything that happened to me as a result of your phone call.”

“Oh god,” said Jenny and she dropped her head into her hands.

“If I lived through it, the least you can do is hear what happened.”

“Ok,” said Jenny in a small voice. And she sat and listened as Coralie told her what she had been through: the knock on the door, the handcuffs, the screaming at night, the endless card games, May’s fear, her fear… all of it.

When Coralie had finished, Jenny whispered “I am so so sorry. Tell me what else I can do.”

“Never never do anything like this again. Promise me.”

“I promise. Absolutely, I promise.” 

“Go on every Black Lives Matter protest, challenge every racist you can find, read everything you can on slavery and colonialism.”

“I can do that.” They sat for a moment and then Jenny said, “Can I ask you to do something for me?”

“I don’t think you’re really in any position to ask me for anything.”

“It’s not for me. It’s for Sid. Please don’t avoid us. Sid said you felt unsafe in their home and I can't bear you to think that. Sid’s the absolute best dad you could have and Charlotte’s amazing. I’m the person to be angry with, not them.”

“Did Sidney make you come here?”

“Of course he did! I wouldn’t have had the guts otherwise. And he’s scary when he’s cross.”

Coralie surprised herself by laughing. It was the first time she’d laughed in what felt like a long long time.

\-------------------------

“What do you think about inviting Coralie and her family to spend Christmas with us?” Charlotte asked Sidney.

“Really? Are you sure?”

“Of course. They’ve probably made plans already but, I don’t know, I thought it would make Coralie feel happier about visiting us again if she came with her family.”

“To banish the ghosts of what went on here before?”

“Something like that.”

“I’ll ask them.”

And so it was that on Christmas Eve, Sidney and Charlotte arrived at Pockton station in two separate cars to collect Coralie, Gloria, Winston, Jackie and Marie, their luggage and several bags of what looked like groceries.

“You know, we’ve already got lots of food,” said Charlotte.

“I’m not going to let you do all the cooking,” said Gloria. “And there’s going to be a lot of us.”

“That’s certainly true,” Charlotte laughed.

They were all settled into rooms at the B&B, which was shut to paying guests over the Christmas period. Jenny, Henry and Alicia were already ensconced as was Janey who was back from college. The next few days were spent happily, opening presents, playing board games, endlessly eating and cooking and eating some more.

Charlotte stood watching as Winston and Crowe chatted by the fire, Gloria and Alison whipped up another round of snacks and the seven young people played a long noisy game of Monopoly. Coralie was still wary around Jenny, but that might have been less because of what she had done and more because Jenny was insistent on waiting on her, hand and foot. 

Charlotte felt Sidney come up from behind and wrap his arms around her.

“Our first Christmas,” he whispered in her ear.

“I know. Twelve months ago, I’d never have imagined this is how I’d be spending Christmas this year.”

“Me neither. But you’re happy this is how your life’s turned out?”

“Of course I am. I’m so happy. You make me happy.”

“Even with all these extra people I seem to have brought along with me?”

“This is our family.”

“I know you couldn’t have a child of your own, Charlotte, but will you share my children with me?”

Charlotte felt herself swell with happiness. “Yes please,” she said and turned round, putting her arms around Sidney’s neck. They smiled at each other and then he kissed her. 

THE END for now...


End file.
